the Mockingjay (A Love Story of Musical Sorts)
by HisLittleBunny
Summary: "…And while we spoke of many things, fools and kings, this he said to me: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return." (Full summary inside)


**Title: **the Mockingjay (a Love Story of Musical Sorts)

**Summary**: Essentially, the brainchild of sleepless nights and constant watching of Moulin Rouge- Katniss is the Sparkling Diamond of the Mockingjay, run by the famous Caeser Flickerman. Peeta Mellark is a new-to-the-Capitol boy who gets wrapped up in a bohemian troupe, determined to write a revolutionary play. When these lives collide, the one thing to remember is this: The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love and be loved in return.

**Rating**: For now, T for swearing and implied situations, eventually will be come M and most likely will only be updated on Archive of our own... My account is under the same penname. :)

**Pairings**: Katniss/Peeta and some one-sided President Snow/Katniss. Yeahhh.

**A/N**: I don't own the Hunger Games or Moulin Rouge, but I love them both very much. I hope you enjoy this quasi-parody- I love reviews more than anything else!

* * *

I first came to the Mockingjay one year ago. I had known nothing of the Mockingjay, Caeser Flickerman or the Sparkling Diamond.

I left my humble life as a baker- I ran away from a scolding mother and a miserable father. My mother… she was all too disgusted in me for leaving- and especially in my future choice of residence.

"The Capitol? That… that _city of sin_?! You disgusting boy!" She paused in her screaming. "At least, it's a lovely place for _failures_ like you to go live."

My father, on the other hand, had more… _inspiring_ words to speak.

"You know, you will always be successful if you remember these four values: Freedom, beauty, truth and love.

Ahh, yes. Above all things I had always believed in love.

Of course, at that point in my life, I had hardly known what love was. Besides my father's loving words, I had mostly lived a life of suffering. I had older brothers who I knew cared about me, but they'd left long before I made my decision, and hadn't ever returned.

So it was settled. I left for the Captiol quickly and easily. As if the world wanted me to go- as if destiny wanted me to go.

I had arrived in the town and immediately was overwhelmed by the hustle and bustle of the city. It was huge, and full of people. I tried maneuvering through the crowds- only to get pushed away and knocked down. As I rubbed my back and sat on the bricked ground, I wondered if I'd made the right decision.

But as fate would have it, I looked up, and saw a sign. It was rather large, and printed in a fancy cursive, and it read 'L'amour'.

"L'amour?" I asked aloud. "I know what that means- love!"

A man, walking by my pathetic form, glared down at me.

"I'm sorry." I mumbled, standing up and brushing my pants off. I grabbed my suitcase and slipped across the street- to rent a room in the beautiful building.

Later that evening, I had been sitting there, pondering what my next step would be, when a large, dark-skinned man fell through my ceiling- dangling by a rope by one foot. I barely had time to react when another man burst in my door- a rather handsome man who was dressed as a nun.

"Hello! I am Finnick Odair, and this is Thresh." He giggled nervously. "I'm so sorry to bother you, but we were rehearsing!" His arms thrust out in a theatrical manner, while Thresh continued to spin and snore. I could hardly suppress my confusion.

"Rehearsing?"

"A play! Yes, a wonderful, magnificent play called Spectacular Spectacular!" At this, the sleeping man fell from his hold, and landed on the ground with a thud. I grimaced.

If the night couldn't get any more peculiar, two men and a woman peered through the hole in my ceiling. "Finnick? What are we going to do now? Thresh went from being a narcoleptic to being fully unconscious!" the woman cried out.

"Then I guess practice is finished for today!" Finnick shrugged down at Thresh.

One of the men pushed forward, and I could smell the alcohol from where I was standing. "Finnick, if we don't finish rehearsal soon, we'll never be ready to present."

The other men shoved forward, and I noted that he was missing an arm. "Yes, well I still have a bit more music to write…"

Finnick looked at me. "What is your name?"

"Peeta…" I answered, my voice full of suspicion.

"Are you sensitive?"

"What?"

"Your personality- are you sensitive?"

I took a moment to think about where this would lead. I was slightly frightened, but more curious. "I suppose, why?"

"Would you like to read for the part of our sensitive poet/goat herder?"

I smiled at the man dressed as a nun. "Sure."

We rushed upstairs- leaving the unconscious man on the floor- and I got my full glance of the 'play' setting. It was a brightly colored backdrop with a painting of a mountain on it. Finnick stood in place and immediately began to sing, as the one armed man, miraculously, played the music.

"The hills are made with the euphonious symphonies of descant..." He cried out, dancing around and waving his arms.

The troupe shared a look as the music cut out. The drunken man stated simply, "I don't think a nun would say that about a hill."

I chuckled, but tried to hide it- fortunately, none of them noticed.

The one armed man smirked. "What if he sings 'The hills are vital, intoning the descant'?"

"No, the hills quake and shake-" Finnick started, but was cut off by the woman.

"Absolutely not!" She shook her head, and brown pony-tail almost slapped her in the face. Suddenly, a noise was heard from downstairs- it was Thresh.

"The hills are incarnate with symphonic melodies!" he yelled with a deep voice, before collapsing down again.

The troupe shared a look, but continued arguing. I had come up with an idea, at that moment, and tried relaying it to them- but they couldn't hear me over their arguing. I climbed the ladder, and tried for their attention again, but it was no use. Finally, as their bickering was leading into screaming, I took a deep breath and sang out:

"The hills are alive with the sound of music!"

The room was silent. I felt my face flush, and was about to climb down, when Thresh sprang up from his sleeping position. "The hills are alive with the sound of music! I love it!"

The group all tested out the song, and all seemed very pleased with it- minus the girl, who crossed her arms and glared at me.

"Brilliant!" Finnick concluded, which led me into my next verse.

"With songs they have sung for a thousand years," I finished with a smile.

Finnick gasped. "Beautiful! Johanna, you two should write the show… together!"

"Excuse me?" Johanna continued glaring. "Absolutely not. I _refuse_." She got up and stomped out of the room, angered by the suggestion.

Finnick shrugged. "Never really wanted to let my little sister in the gang, anyway."

The two elder men laughed, and told me their names- Haymitch was the drunk and Chaff was the one-armed man. He told me to not ask about it.

The air seemed calm- for half a second- before Chaff spoke up. "But Finnick, I doubt he'll be able to convince Flickerman- he might be too amateur for the Mockingjay. No offense."

Flickerman? Mockingjay? I had no idea what this man was talking about, so I could hardly take offense.

"Tell me, Peeta, have you done this before?" Finnick asked. I assumed he meant the singing and writing of songs.

"No…" I answered honestly.

Once again, Thresh was up. He marched over to me and grabbed my crotch. I gasped, while he screamed, "This boy has talent!...I like him. Nothing funny, I just like talent." He let go of my crotch, and I relaxed.

The four wandered a bit away from me, and I leaned over on the ladder to hear them.

"The hills are alive with the sound of music! With Peeta, we can write the truly bohemian revolutionary show that we've always dreamt of!" His voice was hardly quiet, and I heard every word.

"But how will we convince Flickerman?"

"Katniss!" Finnick said, snapping his fingers. The four looked to me.

The quickly relayed the plan to me: I was to dress in Thresh's nicest suit, and portray a famous writer. They would have me go to see Katniss, otherwise known as the Mockingjay's best attraction, and relay my writing to her. Once I impressed her, she would demand that Spectacular Spectacular not only be performed at the Mockingjay, but that I be the one who wrote it.

The scheme sounded great, the only problem was that I kept hearing my mother's voice scolding me in my head: "You'll end up wasting your days with some _slut_ at a dancing lounge in that _sin city_… Just wait and see!"

"I'm not sure I can do this!" I cried out, and ran from my new friends. They followed, their faces plastered in desperate worry.

"And why not?" Haymitch stumbled.

"I don't know if I'm passionate enough for this…" I mumbled, staring at my feet.

Finnick's group gasped. "Do you believe in beauty?" Finnick shouted

"Yes." I said hesitantly.

"Freedom?" Thresh pounded his chest.

"Yes, of course." I replied, this time with more certainty.

"Truth?" Chaff reached his one arm out to me.

"Yes."

"Love?" Haymitch's eyes went wide.

"Love? Love. Above _all things_ I believe in love." I responded. The group seemed settled by my conviction, but I continued. "Love is like oxygen. Love is a many-splendored thing. Love lifts us up where we belong- All you need is love!" At my last words, I stood up, proud at my own personal revelation.

"Let's drink to the new writer of the world's first bohemian revolutionary show!" Finnick yelled, and Chaff and Haymitch cheered along with him. For it being my first time hearing that phrase, I had a feeling it would be far from my last.

Finnick made his way over to a table, and poured five glasses of a very pungent smelling alcohol. "Absinthe." Thresh informed me. We walked over and grabbed our glasses. "To Peeta!" Thresh cried out.

"To Peeta!" The troupe chanted, and gulped their drinks down. I followed, and soon found myself coughing the strong liquid back up.

Haymitch pounded my back and laughed, "Ain't nothing like your mommy's breast milk, eh?" I looked at him in shock for his vulgar language, but he continued to laugh. They fed me glass after glass.

Needless to say, I do not remember much of my first night in the Capitol.


End file.
